U.S.-Soviet rock concert a subdued affair

Press, 15 July 1987, Page 28

U.S.-Soviet rock concert a subdued affair

By

TIM HERITAGE

NZPA-Reuter Moscow American and Soviet rock groups joined forces at an outdoor “peace concert” in Moscow this month that turned out to be a subdued and thinly attended event heavily protected by unarmed troops. Upstaging the electric guitars and balalaikas, the Soviet army provided a double cordon of soldiers that stretched for 300 metres along streets approaching the entrance of Ismailovo Sports Arena.

At least 50 army trucks stood by in nearby woods while, inside the stadium, hundreds more soldiers in blue sweatshirts occupied the first row of the bleachers and guarded the stage. The concert celebrated the end of a United States-Soviet “peace march” from Leningrad to Moscow.

Dozens of doves were released into the air and musicians threw carnations into the crowd from a vast stage flanked by the American and Soviet flags as the concert was opened with a message of greetings from the Kremlin leader, Mikhail Gorbachev.

But the concert itself was so subdued that some people did not bother to applaud. Admission was free but many seats were empty. “It’s not exactly Woodstock,” said one American, who made the 700 km trek from Leningrad. At the 1969 outdoor rock extravaganze at Woodstock, New York, hundreds of thousands of exuberant youths crowded to hear the top stars of the decade. But the organisers remained enthusiastic. “This is the first time Soviet and American rock groups have performed together like this,” said the promoter. Bill Graham. American peace walkers in Tshirts sat side by side with Muscovites, many of whom folded the Communist Party newspaper “Pravda” into hats to protect against a brilliant sun. The Doobie Brothers, an American soft rock group, played upbeat music on electric guitars. Russian folk singers with pipes and balalaikas danced and sang in traditional costumes.

James Taylor sang about his life and loves in America, and Avtograf blasted out officiallyaccepted Soviet rock. But Boris Gribenchikov, lead singer of the Soviet Union’s most famous rock group, Aquariu, said that the Culture Ministry revoked his invitation to play, without explanation. “I guess they just decided to stick by the old, safe policy,” said Gribenchikov, whose Lenin-grad-based band rose to fame through underground cassette tapes. Graham said costs for the concert had been shared by the officially-sponsored Soviet Peace committee and American peace groups. But many foreigners in the audience were not impressed. “I thoght it was disgusting,” said one man after fighting his way through the tight army cordon. 1